The Six Things a Professional Writer Knows
And An Aspiring Writer Will Discover
Last week, an author friend and I were having lunch at Panera, tossing ideas about the future back and forth across the table. More specifically, we were chucking around ideas about our respective futures. Neither of us is young, but we both have experience and valuable insights from that experience. Between the two of us, we’ve done a lot.
He’s been a professional writer for over forty years and has mad skills. He is paid for what he puts down on paper, and he should. I’m “the marketing guy.” I’ve been doing that as long as he’s been writing, and I’m damn good at it. But the world keeps changing, and we’ve always known that we need to do the same. So, there we were, huddled over our salads, considering our options in this frenetic digital world.
We both work primarily with our heads. So, any contribution to posterity will come from the energy we generate from the neck up. He writes, and I promote. As we sat there, surrounded by people just like us tapping away at their screens, it dawned on me that every person in the restaurant was doing what we did: writing and promoting. So, I asked him, “Now that everyone has an idea and a platform, what makes us different?”
My author friend took a bite of his salad, then he grabbed his phone, typed briefly, and handed the phone to me. “I’ve always thought that this separates what I do from what these people are doing.”
A quote from E.B. White, author of Charlotte’s Web and The Elements of Style, was on the screen. In 1969, White was asked about the role of the writer in an era “increasingly enamored of and dependent upon science and technology,” he responded:
“A writer should concern himself with whatever absorbs his fancy, stirs his heart, and unlimbers his typewriter. I feel no obligation to deal with politics. I do feel a responsibility to society because of going into print: a writer has the duty to be good, not lousy; true, not false; lively, not dull; accurate, not full of error. He should tend to lift people up, not lower them down. Writers do not merely reflect and interpret life; they inform and shape life.”
I gave him back his phone. He told me that whenever he felt his profession was losing its credibility and the line between the professionals and amateurs was narrowing, he went back to E.B. White. He reminded himself of those six responsibilities of a professional writer:
- Be good, not lousy
- Be true, not false
- Be lively, not dull
- Be accurate, not full of error
- Lift people up
- Endeavor to interpret, inform and shape life
It sounded simple enough. But it’s no small task in today’s world of hyperbole, clickbait, and subjective truth. Still, my friend wasn’t threatened by aspiring writers that flooded the web with their ideas. “Everyone starts someplace,” he said, “but doing it for fun and doing it for a living are two different things. Professional writers have a much greater responsibility to their audience — and themselves.”
Our conversation took me back to 2007. I had been invited to join a regional TV Awards organization. The organization recognized television producers and news organizations for their work. Our studio had just received an award for an underage drinking PSA that I had created, and the Board thought it signaled a quality in me that would be of some benefit.
My first and only effort was to develop a credo for online reporters (as a newbie, I was a bit over my skis, but why not?). The web and Facebook had just kicked into second gear. I believed that if we could craft a simple set of reporting standards that our members could aspire to, something like what Mr. White had suggested forty years earlier, the people in our association might be viewed with a bit more respect than the average blogger-cum-writer. And our organization would benefit as well.
My suggestion was a non-starter. The Board felt it would be more exclusive rather than inclusive. I saw it as an indication of professionalism and an endorsement of tradecraft. I remained on the Board for three more meetings. The funny thing is, in retrospect, my proposal was ridiculous. Today, anyone with a cellphone and an idea can be published and seen by billions. The Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval was an idea for a different time. Writers write, readers read, and all you can do is stay true to yourself. It’s the Internet.
“Are you finished with these, gentlemen?” a bubbly young girl asked as she motioned to our plates. She was friendly and didn’t mean to offend, but the words “gentleman” and “sir” always rankle. They remind me that the future belongs to the young and that my presence in it depends on adjusting to their world. A world filled with the musings of billions of people. Every one of whom can be published and promoted in real-time. They think it, they write it, and people read it. That’s the world we live in, and it can be a terrifying place if you were born in another. But that doesn’t mean we can’t contribute. In fact, it compels us to because we know things.
I am not a professional writer. I’m a professional marketer, which means that one of White’s hypotheses will always be a challenge: be true, not false. Unfortunately, truth in advertising is a squishy concept. Fortunately, I’m at a point where my principles matter more than profits. I answer to fewer people, and I can choose my clients based on shared values: I work for people I respect.
As I work to develop a new skill, I do it with E.B. White as my guide. Following the rules of Mr. White won’t necessarily make me a professional writer but rejecting them means that I’m writing for an audience I won’t respect and that I don’t want.
